


Take it in Stride

by not_a_princess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awesome Angelina, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_a_princess/pseuds/not_a_princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angelina comforts Hermione during the Halloween feast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take it in Stride

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to do this, I'm afraid. In my headcanon, post-epilogue Angelina and Hermione are good friends. And that idea sort of birthed this fic.
> 
> Also, if by chance you've seen this on ff.net, it's moi! This one is slightly edited, though.

When, on her way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feat, Angelina Johnson overhears Parvati Patil telling Lavender Brown that little Hermione Granger is alone and crying in the girls' washroom, she shares a worried glance with George Weasley. 

The two older students have been keeping an eye on the first-year; Angelina, because she generally likes to--feels the _need to,_ really--look out for younger Gryffindor girls, and George because he's seen that the firstie's a genius and would like to one day introduce her to the art of pranks.

Both have been worried, however, because it seems—so far, anyway—that no one in Hermione's year cares for her. And now, in the wake of what Parvati has said, they are especially concerned.

"I'll go check on her," says Angelina curtly to George. She makes an abrupt U-turn in the hall, nearly bumping into a few students.

…

Angelina comes across a chamber and hears the echo of quiet sobs and sighs.

Surely enough, it's the girls' lavatory. She slowly enters, only somewhat weary of the possibility of running into Moaning Myrtle. 

"Hermione? Hermione?"

She hears a stifled sniffle, and then, "Go  _away!_ "

Angelina walks in front of the stall she believes Hermione is hiding in, then replies bluntly: "Oi, Granger. It's Angelina. You're not going to get rid of me so easily." She gets on her knees and her voice softens. "What did they say to you?"

Hermione hesitantly cracks the door open. Peeks through.

"It's silly, really, for me to be crying like this," she trails off. Angelina gazes at her intently as she goes on. "I—I, I was trying to help Ron Weasley in Charms. I critiqued his pronunciation of 'Wingardium Leviosa,' and I suppose I was a bit bossy…Later, I overheard him telling Harry Potter that it was no wonder I don't have any friends, because I'm...a...a _nightmare_." She sniffs. "And I've just been having a  _horrid_  week, and what he said was true and—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," interjects Angelina. " _I'm_ your friend, aren't I? And you wouldn't know it and they wouldn't readily admit it just yet, but the twins, George and Fred, they like you well enough. You're  _not_  a nightmare, Hermione. Ron Weasley's a bit of a git, is all. Actually, he's a  _huge_ git. Probably green because he's absolute rubbish at charms and you're not. When you deal with people like him, you've just got to take it in stride. They're not worth your tears."

Hermione looks at Angelina with something like pure admiration in her brown eyes and the older girl can't help but to delicately wipe some of the younger's tears with her thumb. George is right. She's a mother hen at heart.

"Thanks, Angelina," Hermione says quietly. 

Angelina smiles brightly. "It's nothing. Also, call me 'Ange,' if you like...Alright, then? Wanna walk with me to the feast?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I'll just stay here for a few minutes, clear my head, clean up a bit. But, thank you. Again."

Angelina smiles in understanding and stands. "Think about what I said." She slowly makes her way to the door but then looks back, her dark brown eyes wide and questioning. "Are you sure?"

Hermione is in front of one of the basins. "I'll be fine. I'll be down soon."

"O-kay," Angelina responds hesitantly. With trepidation, she exits the washroom and makes her way to the Halloween feast.

She takes her seat between Fred and George, and absently laughs at their jokes as her mind lingers fretfully on Hermione.

Something tells her that she should've stayed with her, waited for her to wash up and such, before bringing her up to the feast.

…

"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."

Yup, probably should've stayed.

…

"Angelina, would you—"

"Quit romping about like a lunatic!"

"Oi, George, Fred, don't be such gits! Just calm down a bit, Ange."

Lee and the twins obviously don't understand her distress. How could they sit contently in front of the fire—surreptitiously observing the first-year test subjects for their new Puking Pastilles, of _course_ —completely and utterly _un_ plagued by the fact that little Hermione could be having an fatal encounter with the bloody troll at  _this very moment_?

Damn them.

And damn their brother, Perfect Prefect Percy Weasley, for not letting her out of the tower to fetch Hermione!

And damn their  _other_ brother, Idiotic Sodding Ronald Weasley the Numpty for making her so distraught in the first place!

 _Weasleys_.

Frustrated and worried, Angelina finally collapses to sit on the rug directly in front of the fireplace, glaring at the flames. Fred helpfully informs her that doing this is bad for one's eyesight; she refrains from decking him. 

Every time she thinks she hears someone come through the portrait she straightens, only to slump once more.  _If only she'd waited._

The minutes drag on like lazy summer days and finally,  _finally,_ Hermione (and McGonagall and Harry and  _Ron_?)enter the common room and Angelina's feet are moving of their own accord when she descends upon the four, demanding answers.

"Miss Johnson, Miss Johnson!" cries McGonagall. "Do calm down. As you can see, Miss Granger is fine and so are Potter and Weasley." Angelina's expression changes at the end of McGonagall's last exasperated statement, reflecting her sentiment that  _she could bloody well care more about Potter and_ Weasley  _right now_. Hermione appears amused, and McGonagall bites back a small smile at the tall young woman's fierce protectiveness. It's something the professor likes to see, solidarity among the Gryffindor girls. She goes on to tell her that Harry and Ron actually (sort of)  _saved_ Hermione from the troll when it had her cornered in the girls' lavatory.

"Huh," says Angelina, sucking her teeth. She regards her small, skinny Quidditch teammate with a small smile as McGonagall bids all good night and makes her exit. She bends to peck him on the cheek. "Nice going, Potter," she says pleasantly, entertained as his green eyes brighten and his cheeks go red.

Ron eyes her now-- _almost_ as if he believes he too deserves a thank-you-peck. In response, Angelina simply raises a single imperious ebony eyebrow and ushers Hermione to the futon where the twins and Lee are sitting.


End file.
